I don’t write about mourning issues much on this blog, which is ironic; I rebooted my life in 2010 because I was coming out of an extended, 15-year long period of malaise brought on by the deaths of my parents in the mid-1990s. I think I don’t want this blog labeled solely as a blog for mourners, but at the same time I want it to be a safe place for mourners to visit and feel like they are in a place of mutual understanding and sympathy.

But then I wonder if I’m being too shy, and wrongly supporting society’s current moratorium on talking about grief. Our culture fears the grim reaper so much, we refuse to acknowledge death at all. I feel that by saying, “I don’t want to be marginalized/I don’t want to marginalize others” I may just be helping that very marginalization along.

Which is one reason I’ve taken to posting Grieving Futures as a series of posts. I’ve also gone back to my idea of writing a book about my caretaking experiences, which is some ways was just as shattering as the actual deaths that followed. I don’t expect every post here to be about death and mourning, but I have decided it is important not to skitter away from the topic for fear of upsetting people.

Death is upsetting. It’s so upsetting, it derailed my life for fifteen years. Maybe by talking about it here and keeping that dialogue open, we can help others pull out of the tail spin, mourn naturally and productively (it’s possible), and find out what they have to live for.

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